Not the Me I Used to Be
by Inaka
Summary: Movieverse Rogue is tired of hiding from her powers and decides to do something about it. This fic takes the form of her diary entries during this period. . The second chapter is up! **I've fixed the problem with the strange symbols in the text. Sorry ab
1. Not the Me I Used to Be

Title: Not the Me I Used to Be (Chapter 1)  
Author: Inaka  
Disclaimer: All of these characters belong to Marvel. I don't own them I just like to play with them. I'm not making any money so don't sue me.  
Author's Notes: I'm re-posting this, my first fanfic, after making a few cosmetic changes. I started this and now I feel I have to see it through so I've decided to chapter this story. It's not going where I thought it was, but hopefully it'll be an interesting ride. In all I think that there'll be four chapters.  
If you like it please review it. If you think it sucks please tell me why.  
  
Logon...  
  
11.08.01 23:47 Terminal 3  
  
ID: Rogue  
  
Password: *****  
  
Valid password entered system starting...  
  
Open file: C:/Diary.txt  
  
Entry #212  
  
It wasn't the cravin' for an ice cold Molson and a nice Cuban after a workout. It wasn't the urge to read just about anythin' with a bike or a scantly clad woman on the cover. Hell, it wasn't even the occasional growl, belief that flannel was an essential part of any wardrobe, or the urge to rub One Eye ... dammnit ... MR. SUMMERS! the wrong way.  
  
No, it wasn't any of those. Those things could be dealt with, incorporated into my "New and Improved" personality. Just as I had managed to intagrate the pieces I had of David and the uncomfortably large chunk I had of Erik ... um Magneto into my "core personality" as the Professor likes to call it. It was either accept them or go insane. I chose acceptance. Absorbin' people, it's who I am, it's what I do. Don't blame me, blame Nature.  
  
Personally I blame Logan. What does he have to do with it? Nothin' really, but I have to blame him for somethin'. I blame him for my continued existence. See sophistry is your friend. Logan! How can you love and hate, no not hate, I know him too well to ever truly hate him. That's what happens when you get someone in your head, your soul. Thing is he's not the only one who's left his mark on me, but he's the one I want there, the one I reach for. How can a person who's not even here, who hasn't so much as fuckin' called since the day he left, almost two years ago, be the center of your universe?  
  
All the stuff he left me with I can take. Nightmeres, seedy memories, stead-fast belief that hockey is the only proof of God's existence. All these I cherish, hoard actually. I cling to them and guard them jealously from Jean's prying telepathic scans. Of all the Logan in me there's only one aspect that I hate, loath actually, his fear ... fear of me.  
  
I know what you're thinkin', "the Wolverine afraid of you!" Yeah, believe me I should know. I scare the shit out of him. In his mind thoughts of me set off alarm systems that scream run as far and as fast as you can NOW! Why? Well I have my theories. If I lived in a fantasy world, or one of Kitty's slutty romance novels, I'd think that his "passion and undying love" for me had scard him off. But I'm pragmatic by nature, well at least I am now. The Erik in me has let me in on too many of life's bitter little secrets for little girl dreams to prevail. I can tell fact from fiction. Logan's love is fiction, his fear is fact.  
  
Logan is scared of me. Hell I nearly killed Mr. Well-Nigh-Invincible twice! I don't blame him, I don't agree with him, but I don't blame him. Between Erik and Logan I've had quite an education, I've quite literally become one of the most dangerous mutants on Earth. There's a part of me that's a ruthless killer given to berserker rages, a kill-now-ask-questions-later mentality and few, if any, morals. There's a part of me given to extreme megalomania, Machiavellian scheming and few, if any, morals. Then there's a part of me that realizes that these are not bad things in themselves. They are ... gifts. Gifts that tell me I'm not a monster, my powers are not a curse, they're power, strength. It's a strange place to find self-confidence I know, but it works. I have the power to know and do anythin' anyone else can. All it takes is one little touch. One touch and BAM! I'm a seasoned cage fighter. BAM! I have complete mastery of the laws of thermodynamics. BAM! I can be, or do, just 'bout anything I want.  
  
Sure there's the matter of that little side effect, but I'm learnin' to deal with that. Jean and the Professor spend all their time tryin' to get me to "protect Marie" from these "corrupting influences." What they don't understand is that those "influences" are Marie now. My thoughts don't come with nametags anymore. They might come from Logan-Marie, David-Marie, or Erik-Marie, but they all come from Marie. It was a matter of survival. It had to accept the others as part of my self or ... well you know; padded cell, white jacket, jell-o through a straw. They don't get that so I stopped tryin' to explain and just played along, it's easier that way. I swear sometimes Charles can be so patronizing. Did it ever occur to him that a continually evolving personality might be part of my mutation? A sort of counterbalance? No, he and Jean are the great and powerful telepaths who obviously know me better than I know myself, right?  
  
Well maybe I like not having a true "core" Marie. Maybe I like bein' able to change who I am. Maybe I like becomin' stronger with every new touch. Maybe I'm not the one who should be careful all the time. Maybe I'm not the Marie they think I am. Maybe I've changed.  
  
That's why I've stopped wearin' the gloves lately. My powers are just that my powers and I'm gonna use 'em. It'll just take some time to figure out how much touch is enough to get what I want. Brief enough to absorb the knowledge and power, but not to kill. Well, not unless it's necessary. What? It's not like we ... I haven't done it before. That's one of those "new sides" of Marie they whisper about when they don't think I'm listenin'. I'm not sayin' I'm gonna run around the mansion power suckin' my friends, but I'm sick and tired of hidin' what I am. The Professor is always sayin' how we should accept and embrace our gifts. Well I guess I'm sayin' "Thank you" and givin' mine a big hug. As I see it with each touch I become a new and improved version. A new Marie, a new Rogue.  
  
Maybe Logan was right after all. 'Cause when you think about the possibilities I'm fucking terrifyin'.  
  
Save file: C:/Diary.txt  
  
Saved  
  
Password enabled  
  
Logoff  
  
12.08.01 00:53 Terminal 3   



	2. Definitions

Title: Definitions  
  
Author: Inaka  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters Marvel does. I'm making no money from this, I'm just having fun playing with Rogue's mind. Definition taken from www.dictionary.com  
  
  
Author's Notes: I'm not happy with how this turned out but I felt the need to see how the powers that be reacted to Rogue's new outlook. I think this will eventually be four chapters. I haven't completely dropped Logan, but I'm still focusing on Rogue right now. *...* Denote telepathic communication and #...# denotes Rogue's thoughts.  
  
*Rogue could I see you in my office.*  
  
#Oh, shit.#  
  
  
Logon ...  
  
14.08.01 20:15 Terminal 3  
  
ID: Rogue  
  
Password: *****  
  
Valid password entered system starting ...  
  
Open file: C:/Diary.txt  
  
Entry #214  
  
  
I got "The Talk" today. I knew it was comin' after I stopped wearin' the gloves. Actually I was kinda lookin' forward to it. It was well done. Watchin' the Professor and Jean lecture me was like watchin' a gorgeously choreographed ballet. Each supportin' the other's arguments until they stood safely behind a heavily fortified wall of righteousness. It didn't change a damn thing really, but I did appreciate the effort.  
  
It's funny how when you quit feelin' bad about yourself ya begin to notice other people's low opinions of ya. They don't think of it that way, but in the end it all amounts to the same thing. Fear and mistrust cloaked in the friendlyy disguise of concern.  
  
Take the general theme of "The Talk," responsibility. There's a word that got thrown around quite a bit. "Rogue, aren't you aware of the responsibilities you must bare with a gift like yours?" # No, I'm completely obilvious to them.# "What about your responsibilities to your fellow students?" # Well it's been two days and I haven't killed anyone yet, I'd call that pretty damn responsible.# And my personal favortie "It's unlike you to be so irresponsible." # Why thank you Jean your confidence in me is astounding.# I'm surprised they didn't pull out a life-sized poster of Scott, point to it, and say "Why can't you be more like this?"  
  
Responsibility! What about their responsibilities to me? I'm a Mutant at a Mutant school. Isn't it their responsibility to teach me how to use my powers not how to hide 'em? Hell it's not like everyone else here has complete control anyway. At any given time Jubes could slip and PAFF! the mansion to bits, or St. John could accidentally torch the place, yet I'M the dangerous one.  
  
I'm not stupid I saw them both watchin' my hands the entire time. As if suddenly without the gloves they didn't know me anymore, couldn't trust me anymore. Believe me nothin' hurts more than havin' someone you respect, someone who preaches tolerance and acceptance, lookin' at your hands, not your eyes while they talk to you.  
  
I wasn't tryin' to antagonize them, but it's not like we ask them to walk around the mansion wearin' lead helmets or somethin' to ensure that they aren't readin' our thoughts. There's got to be a measure of trust here, that's all I'm askin' for, sadly I don't think they can give it.  
  
In the end we reached a compromise, after all I am a guest in the Professor's house and since I ain't got nowhere else to go I'm not lookin' to get kicked out. I agreed to wear the gloves in class and in the cafeteria; otherwise they're "optional." Not exactly the great breakthrough I was hopin' for.   
  
What has become uncomfortably obvious is that any progress I'm gonna make with my powers will have to happen outside the range of watchful eyes. So at school I'll be the dutiful student, the slightly more assertive, but still timid, Rogue they're comfortable with. (I've always fancied myself a bit of an actress.) What happens when I'm not at the mansion, well that they don't need to know. If they can't help me I'll just have to help myself.  
  
Y'know my first week here Bobby asked me why I called myself Rogue. I told him it was jus' because I liked the sound of it. I suppose somethin' like Leech would've been more appropriate, but far less poetic. I looked up the definition of Rogue today. Y'know what it says?  
  
ROGUE 1. An unprincipaled, deceitful and unreliable person;  
a scoundrel or rascal.  
  
2. One who is playfully mischievous.  
  
3. A vagrant.  
  
4. A vicious solitary animal.  
  
5. An organism ... that shows an undesirable variation from  
a standard.  
  
  
Guess I chose the right name after all.  
  
  
Save file ... C:/Diary.txt  
  
Password enabled  
  
Saved  
  
Logoff  
  
14.08.01 20:59 Terminal 3  
  
## Next up (when I have the time to write it) is Little Touches. Rogue puts her new theories into practice on the streets of New York.## 


End file.
